Shakespeare's Finest
by Silent Nacht
Summary: If the Marauders are discussing poetry at the prompting of James Potter, something is bound to happen, though not necessarily anything good. JPLE implied.


Details/Notes: I threw this together in Borders, complete with a lot of snickering, much to my chagrin. Please enjoy. All comments and criticisms are appreciated._  
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_Shakespeare's Finest_

_A re-accounting of just how James Potter ended up with green and purple boils covering his parts from now until Christmas, aided and abetted by the remaining three Marauders, despite Mister Moony's best intentions._

"What do you think about poetry, Padfoot?"

It didn't matter how loud the rest of the common room was, the voices of the four fifteen-year-olds dubbed the Marauders cut through the atmosphere like butter. In the five plus some years these boys had been at Hogwarts their classmates had learned to _pay attention_ to what they were doing at all times.

Ears perked up, homework lay in puddles of forgotten ink, and the four boys in question relished in the interest.

"No, James."

"I wasn't asking _you_, Moony."

James was currently sprawled sideways over one of the plush armchairs closest to the fire. His unusually argumentative companion seated on the floor with a book propped on his bent knee, using it to finish writing his charms essay.

The scene could be described as a typical one for a Thursday evening, even if it was only four days from the full moon.

Padfoot and Peter, the second half of the fearsome foursome, were currently fighting over the other armchair in the vicinity; a fight which Sirius was bound to win, but then again, none of it really mattered in the first place.

It was all about show.

"Why the fuck are you talking about poetry, Prongs?" Sirius asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Peter's elbow shoved against his cheek.

"Get_ off_ me!"

"Get your shoe off my stomach then!"

"That's not my shoe, Sirius," came Peter's reply, in a flat, slightly worried tone.

Sirius leapt off his shorter companion with a squeaky shout that brought snickers from all corners. Considering Peter was giggling the hardest Padfoot quickly figured out he'd been had, and retaliated by flinging himself into Peter's lap.

"Urk."

"Like I was saying; _poetry_, Jamie?"

"It's a bad idea."

Remus flourished his quill as he finished a sentence, the only indicator that he found the entire situation _very_ amusing.

"You say that about everything," James announced, reaching down and messing up Remus' hair, causing him to glower at his essay, which had narrowly avoided destruction. "And shut up, Sirius."

"You're the one that asked," Sirius maintained, which was the truth, but not exactly what James was telling him off for.

Peter elbowed Sirius in the ribs a second before shouting, though it really came out more like a whine, "Get the hell off of me!"

Padfoot just snickered, peaking at the blond in mock-shock, "My dear Wormtail, did you just _swear_ at me?"

He received nothing more than a pained moan for his efforts.

"He's really growing up, isn't he?" Sirius asked James eagerly.

"Yes, we've taught him so well," James glared, before raising his voice, "Now if we could get back to the main subject here, which happens to be ME and my LOVELY LILY."

"Merlin's balls, no need to be so pushy," Sirius sighed. He stood up and poked Wormtail until there was room for both of them in the armchair.

"_Padfoot_."

James, obviously, wasn't going to let this particular subject drop, no matter how stupid it might seem to everybody in hearing distance aside from him. That was just the sort of stupid teenager he was.

Before Sirius could come up with a suitably idiotic response to this, Moony cut it. He considered it his civic duty.

"James, if you even think the word poetry in Evans' direction, she is going to eviscerate you. Adding to that, I doubt you could even _name_ a poet, let alone recite a piece of poetry, and if you're thinking of making something up, well, there's no helping you."

It was easy to see the logic of this argument, which meant Prongs had no choice but to ignore it.

"Girls_ love_ poetry," he said, "See, Sirius and Peter will agree with me."

Sirius was, in fact, staring at James with the sort of look that said he thought the boy was spending too much time around potion fumes, or took a bludger to the head when no one was looking. Peter just look pained, as if the thoughts of poetry swirling around James' head might be contagious.

"It can't be that hard."

"James, that's what you said about you-know-what," Peter said, trying to be helpful, but nothing was really helpful when it came to James and quote-unquote love.

"_Yeah_, and that _wasn't_ that hard."

"It took you the better part of _three years_. If it's going to take you that long to write a poem, I don't even know why we're having this conversation," Remus said, crossing the Ts on the last sentence of his essay, and staring at his friend with a mixture of affection and confusion.

Amazing, as soon as he said this, James began to blush.

"Oh, Merlin."

Remus set down his quill, his shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.

Sirius' eyes blanked, which was a interesting and very rare phenomenon, as not much could shock him these days. He immediately went into denial. "No. James, tell me it's not true. You _have not_ been working on a _poem_ to _read to Evans_ since second year."

By now, James head was almost buried in his robes, but not even that could muffle his reply enough not to be heard, "It was third year."

Sirius and Peter proceeded to burst into laughter.

Remus' shoulders continued to shake, and he coughed into his hand a couple of times.

"Fine!" James declared passionately, though the effect was thoroughly lost on his friends, "I knew I shouldn't have said anything. I'm going to find Lily, and she's going to love every word of it."

He practically flew out of the common room, his face red from embarrassment and anger.

"You should probably go find him," Remus remarked as the noise finally died down, and he stopped holding his breath to keep from laughing, "_Before_ Evans curses him to within an inch of his life."

"Moony. Moony, Moony, Moony," Sirius said, still chuckling.

He stood up, and wandered over to where Remus was still seated on the floor, leaning down and taking him by the shoulders. "Moony. _Poetry_."

"Okay," Remus' lips twitched. "Okay. He deserves it."

"Yes, he does. And we _have_ to be there to see it happen," Sirius agreed, pushing off of Remus' shoulders, and turning to look at Peter, whose face was still flushed from laughter, "You coming or what?"

The two of them were quick to race out of the portrait hole, Remus following only a bit more sedately.

It was a lot quieter after they left, as people speculated in whispers about what the hell just happened, and how the four boys would _yet again_ evade their professors, wandering the halls nearly half an hour after curfew.

But that was just another thing that separated the Marauders from everyone else.

_End._

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End Notes: Thanks for reading! Please, please review. Everything from "I liked it" upwards brightens my day. 


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